


coffee for a lonely soul

by jemmasimmns (laurellance)



Series: mickray fics [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Coffee Shops, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7110532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurellance/pseuds/jemmasimmns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick Rory didn’t know whose idea it was for them to start a coffee shop of all things- on one hand, it meant they had cover in case the cops came looking for them. but it also meant dealing with people on a daily basis, and preparing drinks and food for them. </p><p>The overly optimistic puppy-of-a-man that came in at 6AM sharp a few days a week infuriated the life out of him, because 1) why would he need three coffees and two pastries, 2) he always paid with fifties, and 3) he gave them the change like a selfless rich person (not your typical money grubber like Oliver Queen, who only just sat by the darling Laurel Lance and took turns glaring at him). </p><p>(No, he did not like Haircut romantically.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	coffee for a lonely soul

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was sent by Keri- saunderskendra on tumblr!!!

Sometimes, Mick really hated Lisa. Because even if she was the closest thing he had to a sister,  she was off the job 99% of the time, and that left him to deal with the customers on a day to day basis. 

At least the regulars were decent- he had high respect for Sara Lance, who came in daily telling new stories of the assholes she’d beaten up the day before. Occasionally she’d bring her girlfriend Nyssa in, and Mick would’ve hired Nyssa on the spot if he could have. (Nyssa Al Ghoul was terrifyingly impressive- like Lisa in a way.)

There was Rip Hunter, the Doctor Who wannabe that hated him but always came back for his coffee anyway. The uncle friend Jonah Hex just glared when he was dragged along, but the son and wife were cute. (and, the son thought he was some kind of _Legend_ \- whatever sick joke that was, he wasn’t quite sure.)

Sara’s sister Laurel- who saw right through their coffee shop act, but only came daily to monitor Sara with her rich asshole of a boyfriend Oliver Queen. She and Rip became very good friends, he notices over time- the number of glares he’d get from the three of them got old very fast. (He gives the son free pastries out of spite- he doubts the poor kid understands half of what was going on, but the kid seemed to look up to him more.)

There was the on and off couple of Kendra Saunders and Carter Hall- he listens to Kendra’s horror story romance tales with half a heart to just tell her to sock the poor bastard and move on, which really wouldn’t work in his favour either considering Carter actually gave tips. 

Stein and Jefferson were a whole other story- the most unlikely combination of people that managed to work together apparently. He’d heard of Stein’s old partner, Ray Raymond or something, who he knew was the ex of Caitlin Snow. (Speaking of the scientist, wasn’t she dating Cisco Ramon? They were the most gag inducing couple he had ever served, and the two of them hadn’t even _kissed_ yet, Lisa had said.)

Then of course, there was the last regular worth mentioning: Raymond Palmer, who never failed to tempt his hand at choking someone. Or murdering someone. Or even just spitting in their drink in their face and making them pay for it. (Which he had done many times for.. who was it… _riplaureloliver_ )

* * *

 

The first time Palmer had shown at the Rogue Center (Lisa had called the name uninventive for some reason), he had asked for three chocolate pastries and two black coffee’s, large. Lisa had slept in, had too many drinks the night before, and Len had flat out refused to deal with the people aspect of the job. 

Which of course, left him to serving Palmer. It wouldn’t have been that big a problem anyway, but Lisa had been up since 1AM the previous night vomiting, and he had been the one holding her hair back as she spilled her guts down the toilet. 

The idiot had the _ludicrousy_ to be bright and perky and happy. With a naturally happy temperament to him, and a grin that never went away. The hair stood as a mockery itself, in the way it was parted right down to the hair colour. 

The idiot had left the change for the fifty dollar bill as tips too. Idiot rich people. 

* * *

 

Unlike most regulars, he came in on a sporadic basis. Ordered an absurd amount of food and coffee, and would come back a few days later to do the same. The breaks usually lasted between two to five days each, with Palmer coming back wearing the same clothes, or dark bags under his eyes. 

He thinks, as a after thought, that him and Kendra would be good for the other. Stable, like how Caitlin and Cisco were, like how Iris West, the reporter with the incessant need to ask him for gossip every time they talked, and Barry Allen were. 

He’s spent way too much time doing this job, if he’s going to play match maker for his regulars.

* * *

 

Time flies, and it’s holiday season. The time of finals, refilling the coffee pot to the point of no return, and being the stress reliever of procrastinators worrying about maintaining straight A’s for their parents. 

Palmer shows up more often, and lingers. Not in the way Kendra did- to complain about her problems and get a audience that wouldn’t judge, or how riplaureloliver did by watching him, but he stays, like he wants the company. Buys the most useless stuff (the ones they wanted to sell but couldn’t due to lack of interest), and usually a black coffee filled with cream and sugar to the extreme. He’d stay, and just want to talk. 

Having help to clean up when the shop was closing up was probably the best part of it- even then, there’s a feeling that Palmer just wanted company, more than anything. 

He says nothing as he tells haircut what to do, because he does get it- the silence suffocated in ways that you couldn’t explain unless you had dealt with it before, in the way that the isolation singled a person out by exposing them for their loneliness, in the way sometimes the silence choked a person. So he tells haircut what to do, pretends the longing glances haircut gives him are entirely normal for a rich brat, and once in a while indulges him on one of his hugs. 

Haircut grins at him in full joy one morning, and Stein notes that that was a first during the holiday season. He pretends not to hear. 

* * *

Christmas Eve comes before he knows it (it’s a sigh of relief when he closes shop), and next thing he knows he finds himself looking for Haircut. 

Haircut wasn’t at the door ‘pretending’ to be busy, he hadn’t showed up that day at all, and there were three pastries waiting for Haircut to be eaten. 

So where was Haircut? All the other regulars had already gotten their annual ‘gifts’ (read: assorted items he had Lisa and Len buy that he distributed by accident) for showing up at the shop but there was Puerto Rican and Venezuelan black coffee mix waiting to be claimed by Haircut that still sat in his bag. 

Against all better will, he finds himself contacting Stein for a location (why, he doesn’t quite know) and off he goes to some science lab to find a Doctor Ray Palmer. (Haircut was still a better name if you asked him.)

* * *

 

The lab Stein tells him turns out to be a entire building. There’s a plaque beside the door: “ _Private Property of Dr. Raymond Palmer_ ” in the 1800 era cursive they wrote in right down to the ostentatious and unnecessary loops around the letters. (There was a reason he hated rich people: the need to brag and show it off usually worked, in the way they would get away with so much crap.)

The door opens, and it creaks open like the old decrepit house in the horror stories. Hell, it looked that part- there was carpeting on the floor, head busts and portraits decorating the walls, and old faded wall papers that would have probably been given colour by the tinted glass windows. The doors were either closed off or led to over-fancy bedrooms that clearly showed the wealth of the owners. 

There’s a set of stairs at the end of the hallway, and the only light source was coming from upstairs. At least the stairs didn’t creak when people stepped on them. 

Upstairs was in essence a giant bachelor pad littered with empty cups of coffee, empty bags that were never thrown away, and high tech stuff he’s not going to even touch. (However, he did once get a heat gun from Cisco- although this tech looked highly more advanced than the gun.)

“Haircut?” This felt like screaming into the void, why is he even bothering to do this. “You missed the annual gifts- managed to save you Yaucono coffee beans.” He steps over a crushed large sized cup. _How did Haircut Palmer live like this?_

He looks around the giant room. No sign of Haircut. 

“Haircut?” There’s a ladder that’s been partially hidden behind the mess, and the metal blends into the wall fairly well. 

He finds Haircut with a bottle with Tequila, perched on the roof a tall two story building staring out into space. He hands Haircut a chocolate pastry bag- Haircut would eat it, he knows Haircut would. 

Haircut never actually says anything- just observes the sky as if it held the answer to his questions (it didn’t, it never did to begin with), if it would help the feeling of loneliness (it only made it worse), or if it made Haircut feel any better about himself (it wouldn’t). 

Haircut passes him the Alcohol bottle, and moves closer to him for comfort. There isn’t much to be said, not really- they both know what isolation feels like, the way it choked them to the core, how it stripped them to their bare minimums in what would be a unravelling of who they were. And neither was quite up for a heart to heart about their own feelings (the looks Haircut would give him when Haircut thought he wasn’t looking were not entirely platonic, and nether was Mick and what Lisa described as his ‘unhealthy obsession with Ray Palmer’), or why they were staying with the other on a day that was meant to be happy (they both knew the reason the other was doing this), so there they were, sitting on a roof watching the sun fall. 

Haircut falls asleep on him, and he drags haircut down both flights of stairs, and into one of the overly decorated barbie doll rooms with the four curtains surrounding the bed. The chairs that accompanied the said rooms were also comfortable, Mick notes, as he falls asleep listening to Haircut snore.  

(And, in all fairness: he did care about his regulars. They were.. like the children he never raised. Except riplaureloliver- they were special.)

* * *

 

 When Haircut asks him out the next day, he says yes. 

(They're not quite as lonely anymore,)

**Author's Note:**

> there are a lot of minor charras in this ft lauriver. (and a riplaureloliver whatever they are)
> 
> find me on tumblr at kendrasray!!!


End file.
